


breathe

by enbymickey



Series: season 11 one shots. [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 11x05, M/M, Panic Attack, Season/Series 11, anxiety/mentions anxiety, fill in, idk just husbands being husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbymickey/pseuds/enbymickey
Summary: He moves Ian so he could be under the water now. “It was a smart idea, man.”“So you admit that I’m smart.” Ian smirks, thumbing at Mickey’s hip. His chest doesn’t feel like it’s going to cave in and breathing is easier now.“Nah. Said it was a smart idea not that you’re smart, dumbass.” Mickey’s eyes roll as he turns off the water and shoves the curtain back again but this time Ian’s okay with it.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: season 11 one shots. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047916
Comments: 8
Kudos: 158





	breathe

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i hope everyone is doing well! just a lil content warning ian does have a panic attack. it's not too descriptive or anything so you don't have to worry about all that just! a lil heads up! thank you to shelby for reading this over and my 8 friends, i love u as always.

The adrenaline rush from a couple hours ago has worn off. The realization that he’s just stolen an ambulance and dumped a dead body under some bridge making him struggle to catch his breath. He doesn’t even remember that he’s driving until there’s a hand on his knee, squeezing and squeezing until he snaps back to reality. He quickly corrects the wheel and takes a deep breath. 

They’re on fucking parole. How can he be so stupid? How can he be so careless? It’s supposed to be different this time. This is how their marriage is going to work. It has to be different, it can’t be stealing ambulances and dumping dead bodies. Well, that’s new and different but not really the direction he was going for. 

He looks over at Mickey, his eyes are wide and filled with worry. Ian hates that. He hates that he’s the one causing that look and he hates that he can’t seem to speak so it’ll go away. 

“Where the fuck are we gonna park this?” The first thing out of Ian’s mouth since the panic started bubbling over. They’re on their street now. He doesn’t know where the fuck to park this. Someone’s going to come looking for it, find it then send him or Mickey back to prison. Leaving the other alone. 

**_Again._ **

“On the fucking street, Ian.” Mickey sounds like it’s the simplest thing in the world and yeah, maybe it is but he can’t. 

“People are going to see it.” He speaks up again, his voice sounding far away to even himself.

“It’s an ambulance, not a fucking tank. Just park it down the street and we’ll figure it out.” He sounds calm. How the fuck can he sound calm right now? They’re going to get caught. 

Ian parks where Mickey told him to and he gets out, struggling to breathe but still walking quicker than he has in a while. He opens the door, slamming it shut and he hears Mickey speaking behind him but he can’t stop.  **_He can’t._ **

He ends up in the bathroom, turning the shower on and quickly getting rid of his clothes. He doesn’t even test the water before he gets in, it feels like it’s burning him but he doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t even register that the door has opened and closed, only snapping out of it when the shower curtain is shoved back to leave him exposed. He needs it to close.

Mickey doesn’t say anything or maybe he does and Ian just can’t hear him but the water is being turned down then Mickey is stepping inside with him. 

“You’re having a panic attack.”  **_Yeah. No shit, Mick._ **

He feels like he’s seconds from passing out until he feels the pressure of Mickey’s arms tightly around his waist. He tries to breathe normally, a little bit easier now than it was just minutes ago. 

He can’t believe how stupid he was. Impulsive out of pure anger from being robbed. Ian hates that he lets that consume him. He thought after the church and gay jesus bullshit he would be better at it. He would be better at thinking before acting but he’s not. He can’t end up back in jail. Mickey can’t end up back in jail.  **_This can’t be fucking happening._ **

“Ian.” Mickey turns him around and rests his hand on both sides of his face to make him look at him. “No one is going back to jail.”

Oh, he must’ve said some of that out loud. 

Ian’s not sure he believes him but he feels a bit calmer now. The water helped wash away the day. He feels a thumb on his cheek, wiping away at something. Oh. He’s crying. 

“Sorry.” Ian mumbles, arms that have been by his side the entire time now finding themselves around Mickey just on instinct. 

“Don’t be.” Mickey whispers. So gently, so quietly. The part of Mickey that so few get to actually see. The part of Mickey that Ian gets to see all the time. A gentle kiss to his forehead and a quick nod. He lets go and grabs the soap, pouring some on the washcloth and handing it to Ian. “Not washing’ your ass though.” 

Ian laughs because he knows Mickey would if he asked but he’s making Ian do it because he knows that he can. He knows that Ian hates being treated like some kid so he’s helping in the best way that he knows how. Helping him take care of himself instead of doing it for him. He appreciates it and how well Mickey knows him. He appreciates Mickey more than he can even begin to put into words. 

He can’t fucking lose him again. 

“We need some plan, Mick.” He starts soaping himself up. “We can’t just keep doing shit on impulse. We need a plan.”

Mickey doesn’t look like he disagrees at that and maybe that’s because he’s concerned if he does disagree then Ian will explode and break or some shit. But, Mickey is never one to hold back the truth to spare feelings. Not even when Ian’s are involved. So maybe Ian’s right. _ Like he always is. _

“Debbie will make some modifications on it. We’ll make sure it looks like some private business or some shit. We’ll make sure the thing doesn’t have a fucking tracker on it.” He moves Ian so he could be under the water now. “It was a smart idea, man.”

“So you admit that I’m smart.” Ian smirks, thumbing at Mickey’s hip. His chest doesn’t feel like it’s going to cave in and breathing is easier now. 

“Nah. Said it was a smart idea not that you’re smart, dumbass.” Mickey’s eyes roll as he turns off the water and shoves the curtain back again but this time Ian’s okay with it. 

“Whatever you say.” Ian grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out. 

Mickey’s just staring at him though, like he wants to say something but can’t really put the words together. He does that sometimes and it’s cute as fuck. 

But he never ends up saying anything, just wraps the towel around his own waist and taps Ian on the cheek a few times before going to their room. 

\---

Ian and Mickey are downstairs. Ian’s got the freezer door open, trying to find something for dinner and Mickey’s standing against the counter, shoving chips into his mouth. Making a mess. 

“There’s gotta be something that isn’t older than Franny in here.” He looks around the freezer, pulling out a pan that has to be growing something then just throws it back in. Giving up. 

“Older than Franny? Fuck that. That fuckin’ lasagna looks older than Frank.” Mickey shoves another chip into his mouth. 

Ian stands up, stealing a chip from the bag in Mickey’s hand and sighing. “Guess it’s spaghetti.” 

“Such a wild change from all the other nights we eat fucking spaghetti.” Whatever. They don’t have spaghetti  **_that_ ** often. 

“It’s that or the frank old lasagna in the freezer. Your choice, Mr. Gallagher.” He winks, grabbing the pasta and sauce from the cabinets.

When he turns back around Mickey has that face again. That  _ he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it _ face. Ian just puts down the stuff for the food and gets out the pot for the noodles. He’ll speak when he’s ready. Ian’s learned it’s never ever good to push Mickey. Literally and Figuratively. 

“Panic attacks suck.” He shoves another chip into his mouth, like he’s focusing on that and not the words he’s saying. Ian knows that Mickey has anxiety, anyone with eyesight can tell that. So it’s not surprising that Mickey knows that but it still breaks Ian’s heart. 

“Haven’t had one since before the wedding.” He moves so he’s sitting at the counter, putting the bag down on the surface. 

Yeah, the entire planning situation seemed like one big panic attack now that he looks back on it. Ian doesn’t say anything just nods and fills the pot with water. 

“They suck.” He says again while looking down at the chips. He doesn’t look embarrassed or anything like that. He’s not getting defensive or anything that Mickey usually does. He’s trying to open up and share with Ian. God, Ian loves this man. 

“Yeah, they do.” Ian’s not that great at opening up either. He’s used to keeping everything inside while everyone else shares, explodes in front of him and he thinks that’s why he wanted Mickey to open up so bad when he was younger. He wasn’t used to everyone around him not being so open. It scared him.

Ian puts the pot on the stove and turns it on. He moves so he’s standing beside Mickey, moving the chair so he can stand between Mickey’s legs. “How about you tell me when you’re having one and I’ll tell you when I’m having one.” He says softly, fingers tracing Mickey’s lips. 

“Yeah.” Mickey breathes out and looks up at him. He’s perfect. “Not great at the whole sharin’ shit but fuck- I’ll try.” 

“Yeah. Me too. Suck at it actually.” But he wants to be better. He Wants to do better. More than anything he just wants this marriage to work.

“You suck at a lot of shit, Gallagher.” He pokes at his side and smiles. This fucker.

“You love the way I suck.” Ian smirks, leaning down to kiss him and keep kissing him until he hears Debbie come in the house. Sandy and Debbie are already going at it and they sigh against each other.

“Let’s go pick something up for dinner.” Ian suggests, stealing another one of Mickey’s chips as he pulls away. 

“Fuck, maybe you are pretty smart for a dumbass.” He mumbles, getting up from the chair. 

Ian flips him off and they head out the back door with smiles on their face. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i just wanted to say a quick lil thank you to everyone who has left comments on my last few posts! i apologize for taking forever to get to them but i do see them and i appreciate them so much! so always make sure to leave a comment and kudos to your fic writers because we really do appreciate them! i hope everyone has a wonderful week and i'll see you next time! 
> 
> twitter: ianlovebot  
> tumblr: sandymilkovich


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